


untitled (Fight)

by hyperion



Series: Fight [1]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Rough Sex, Sexual Content, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-31
Updated: 2011-07-31
Packaged: 2017-11-15 11:37:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyperion/pseuds/hyperion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames makes money on the side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	untitled (Fight)

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://froggie.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://froggie.livejournal.com/)**froggie** is responsible for this.

Eames moved like a wave crashing into rocky cliff: a powerful surge forward with his fist, connecting with a rock hard wall of muscle and bone, and then withdrawing so that another blow could land. Arthur could see that Eames moved in a very calculated manner, no wasted effort, every step and every feint measured to exact the most punishment from his opponent. Arthur could hardly take him all in. The flashes of muscles straining under the skin of shoulders, his forearms, his back, created a mosaic of ferocity that left Arthur’s mouth dry.

If Arthur liked his men a little bloody – especially when it was someone else’s blood – he would call it a byproduct of his sometimes brutal job.

Eames drove the other man to the ground, straddling him and delivering several quick blows to his head. The referee was a man beefy enough to kick apart fighters who ignored his orders to stop, and he was shouting to Eames and the crowd that the fight was over since Eames’ opponent was now covering his head and screaming for it to end. The crowd jeered at the ref as Eames stood up, wanting blood or wanting the fight to continue just in case the man on the floor might make a comeback to win bets.

Arthur shouldered his way through the crowd as Eames walked to his side of the clearing. They were in an abandoned warehouse and they had a make-shift ring bordered only by spectators. There was money changing hands and people trying to sneak away without paying up. They all slowed Arthur as he tried to get closer to Eames.

He temporarily lost sight of Eames and saw him next by the exit. When Arthur finally made it out the door and into the alley, Eames was crushing his cigarette beneath his shoe. He looked up, frowning, still in fighter mode. “Hi,” was all Arthur could say as Eames’ frown twisted into a dangerous sneer.

“Did you like the show?”

“Um…” Arthur moved his hand unsteadily like he was trying to communicate with it and failing that as well. It was hard to form words and gestures with the look on Eames’ face and the fact that he was shirtless in the chill night air. There was still blood on Eames’ knuckles, and Arthur could see a smear of blood on the shirt draped over Eames’ shoulder.

Eames stepped away from the brick wall of the building and approached Arthur. “You _did_ like it,” he said, looking Arthur over. “My God, you got off on it.”

Arthur closed his eyes, backing up into the wall as he realized that, yes, he was hard and, yes, it was quite apparent in the tailored pants he was wearing. “Well, um…yeah,” because Arthur could hardly be expected to say things with Eames half-naked and so close that Arthur could smell his sweat and the scent of iron from the blood on Eames’ knuckles.

Eames noticed that Arthur was staring at his swollen and cut bottom lip, looking at it like it was the center of his universe, like nothing could distract him. “Oh, Arthur, I never thought I’d ever see you speechless.”

Watching Eames’ bruised mouth form those words was more tantalizing than Arthur could take. He quite nearly leapt into Eames’ arms, wrapping his arms around Eames’ bull neck and his legs around Eames’ waist. Arthur crushed his mouth against Eames’, getting a sharp grunt from him.

Eames pushed Arthur against the wall hard, pressing the breath out of him. He growled at Arthur’s whine, feeling distinctly predatory. He moved lower, teeth grazing Arthur’s neck until they dug into a muscle. Arthur cried out, fingers digging into Eames’ shoulder and hair. Arthur pulled Eames’ hair, and Eames pulled away, stretching the skin slightly until it slipped from between his teeth.

“Son of a bitch!” Arthur hissed. It had hurt, but Arthur had been excited even further by the sharp pain. “Come on and fuck me already,” he ordered.

Eames grabbed either side of Arthur’s waistcoat and pulled, instantly popping the buttons off. His shirt suffered the same fate, leaving Arthur bare-chested with the shreds of his clothes hanging from his shoulders and still tucked into his pants. Arthur scrambled to unbuckle his belt and just got it out of the way before Eames ripped his pants and underwear down.

Eames backed away from Arthur just enough to allow Arthur to stand and kick off his shoes and pants. Arthur’s socks hardly had time to get dirty before Eames was hauling him back up and slamming him against the brick. The pressure of his torso against Arthur’s kept Arthur pinned between Eames and the wall as Eames unzipped his pants and pulled out his hard cock.

“You know I don’t have any lube, right?” Eames asked.

“I want it hard. Make me feel it.”

Eames lined himself up and pushed in with one hard thrust, Arthur scrabbling at his shoulders to climb away from the sting. Even though he wanted it, he could not help himself. Eames let him, knowing that Arthur could only go so far. When Arthur reached his limit, Eames pressed in deeper, making Arthur’s back arch. Eames did not give Arthur any time to adjust to the intrusion and pulled out to thrust in again.

“What was it that turned you on?” Eames asked. “The violence?” Arthur moaned, rolling his hips against Eames. “The brutality? I fucking broke his shoulder, you know.” Arthur let out a groan, snaking a hand between their bodies to grasp his own cock. “Did you see the three guys I fought before him? Two of them had to be carried out by their buddies.”

Eames put his hand on Arthur’s throat, heavy enough for Arthur to know that it was there but not enough to constrict. Arthur’s head fell back against the wall, baring his throat for Eames. “No. I think it’s the fact that you are desperate to be fucked by a man who could hurt you if you wanted him to.”

Arthur bit his lip, face flushing a little.

Eames’ hand fell from Arthur’s throat and grabbed his hips. He pushed as hard as he could, moving as deeply and quickly as possible in this position. The movements of the fighter were gone. Nothing was timed or measured. Everything was fast and now, now, now. Arthur was gasping at the change in Eames, at his own fist losing its rhythm on his cock. Whatever power Eames had been holding back in the ring to gain the upper hand, Arthur was feeling the full force of it now.

Eames didn’t stop when the nearby door opened, when footsteps halted, when someone catcalled. Instead, he pulled out and as soon as Arthur’s feet where on the ground, he turned Arthur around and pressed him face first into the wall and entered him again. The back of Arthur’s waistcoat was snagged and ripped from catching on the brick. Eames quickly found his punishing rhythm again, and this angle allowed him better access to Arthur’s prostate.

When Arthur came, it hit him as hard at the brick wall that had been scraping his cheek and palm. He bucked and writhed and Eames kept fucking him as hard as Arthur had begged him. He was weak-kneed when it was over, Eames’ hips rocking him for another minute or two until Eames came too.

He pulled out and Arthur whimpered, practically collapsing against the wall without Eames to hold him up. When he turned around, Eames was pulling on his bloodstained shirt and whoever had stepped outside was gone. Arthur stepped back into his pants, grimacing at the movement. His shirt and vest were unsalvageable, but he could possibly hold them together without drawing too much attention to himself in public. They were staying at the same hotel, which was not far from here, and Arthur tried not to limp on the way back.

“I would never have guessed that particular kink, pet,” Eames said easily, like it was normal conversation. “There’s another brawl in a week’s time. The pot should be bigger, since I did so well tonight.”

“Don’t get any ideas about my kinks. Just because I let you fuck me in an alley doesn’t mean I’ll swing by next week and do it again.”

Eames put his arm around Arthur’s shoulders, and Arthur tensed up to push him away, but then relaxed into it. “Yeah, you will. There’s good money to be made if you bet on me. And then I’ll fuck you right there on the bloody, sweaty floor if you like.”

“I hate you,” Arthur said.

Eames laughed loudly. “You love me. You’re obsessed with me. That’s why you found out where I was going and followed me. You love me and you just can’t control yourself around me. Tonight proved it.”

“Shut up or next time you’re the one getting fucked against the wall.”


End file.
